


Kiss Him, Idiot

by pushingclovers



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Feelings Realization, M/M, Pining, alternate alternate title: max is a wuss and sam is dense as fuck, alternate title: max struggles for two decades over his feelings, and is named directly after great grandpa Maximus, does this count as a slow burn? i dont know, figured i should probably stop writing angst and write fluff, no beta we die like men, thank you guys for appeasing me though :'), the OC is Max's brother who also has the nickname Max, there's a lot of time skips so its a slow burn for them I guess jdcjncj, title is from my friend lucien who replied with that after i sent them one of the excerpts cnsvkv, to give my friends a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23934763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingclovers/pseuds/pushingclovers
Summary: Max struggles with his feelings. It goes about as well as you would expect it to.
Relationships: Max/Sam (Sam & Max)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	Kiss Him, Idiot

It started in their second year of junior high.

At first, it was just a weird fluttering feeling in his gut when he saw Sam for the first time that day. He mistook it for a stomach bug instantly, getting up out of his seat and leaving for the nurse without saying anything to anyone. When it disappeared almost as soon as he got into the office, he stopped, confused, before hesitantly making his way back to the classroom.

The feeling returned when Sam gave him a quizzical look, tilting his head once he walked back in the door. Their teacher had started lecturing him, but he wasn’t listening, focusing entirely on Sam.

Something was wrong.

He stomped back to his seat next to the dog, glowering at the table as he plonked into his chair. “You okay, buddy?” Sam asked softly, to which he answered with a grunt, earning him another glare from the teacher.

The day went by semi-normally after that, and the feeling faded after a while. At least, it had until he and Sam split ways for the day, a pang going through him as he watched him grin and wave from the bus window.

He walked home, wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

He had just sat down at his desk when a voice cut through his swarming thoughts. “You look like you just lost your pet fish. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, facing his little brother, Maximus. “I just feel weird.”

“Weird how? Like the kind of weird where you feel like you aren’t you, or the kind of weird where you just wanna puke your guts out?”

“Both, I guess.”

Maximus frowned, hopping up to sit on his bed. Max didn’t even bother telling him to go sit on his own. “You can’t be both.”

“Can too.”

“Can not. But fine, explain.”

He huffs, but complies. “I just feel…I feel like I wanna puke when I’m around Sammy, but I don’t. And when he left today it felt like I was being stabbed with something.”

His brother pulled a face, sticking out his tongue. “Grody. That’s what mom says about dad.”

“This isn’t the same though,” Max scowled, once again turning to the desk. “This isn’t love,” he spat the last word with contempt, “it’s just a phase. Besides, Sammy is my best friend. That’s not how this kinda thing works.”

Maximus muttered something else about their parents, stomping out of their shared room in a huff.

* * *

It wasn’t a phase. Or if it was, it was a ridiculously long one.

The weird feeling of indigestion every time Sam looked at him a bit too long, patted between his ears, smiled at him, or even walked into the same room as him continued on through the end of their years at junior high. By the time they started high school, he’d learned to suppress the feeling entirely, absolutely refusing to face the music and his feelings.

The feelings made him feel like he was a totally different person, and he _hated_ it. He’d done everything in his power to stop it, even giving in to Jenny Talarico’s incessant affections in sophomore year. They only lasted a week; she only ever wanted to kiss him, which absolutely repulsed him. Max had to physically restrain himself from retching into her mouth, which he frankly didn’t care if she noticed or not. Let her think he was disgusting. Sure, she’d been upset when he told her they weren’t working (okay, maybe he’d been a bit harsher than that), but that was better than continuing to lead her on to avoid his actual feelings.

He sat in the space under the bleachers, watching Sam dance awkwardly with some girl between the feet of unlucky kids without dates and couples playing tonsil hockey. He’d been talking about her for the past week, but Max hardly remembered what he said her name was. It started with a K, whatever it was. He passed the jealousy off as just irritation that Sam had gotten a date and not him, the guy _every girl_ wanted to be with for some reason, and not frustration at himself for not just asking Sam himself.

Maybe next Homecoming, he would.

* * *

It took him until Sam was in college to finally come to terms with two things. One, he was not straight at all, and two, he was hopelessly, stupidly in love with his best friend. Now, that was all fine and great, but the problem was _Sam_ was his best friend. Even if he had the guts to actually say it out loud, the dog had a tendency to be incredibly dense when it came to this stuff (which Max was very quick to find out once he started to casually flirt with him to drop hints. Sam just thought he was being his normal self). Plus, he was pretty sure Sam was straight. He’d never shown interest in anything but girls (not that there was much interest to begin with), and whenever Max would casually throw in the fact that he found an actor pretty hot he got fidgety really quick, and would immediately change the subject.

Max was laying backward on their ratty couch with his feet in the air and ears brushing the floor, waiting for Sam to come out with whatever horrid outfit he’d gotten earlier. As much as he loved the guy, he had an…old-fashioned way of dressing himself. Something about being an adult and needing to make an impression, but Max frankly didn’t care. He wore whatever the hell he wanted whenever he felt like it, and no one else seemed to care, so he just kept it that way.

He almost choked when Sam came out with the goofiest grin, holding his arms out to show off the suit. “Oh my God, Sam, what in the fresh hell is that tie?”

The grin faded from the dog’s face, and he subconsciously smoothed said tie. “It’s normal. It’s just stripes, not anything crazy, right?”

Max coughed out a laugh, flipping himself upright so he could breathe. “It’s giant! It’s like a clown tie!”

“You don’t even wear anything,” Sam mumbled, looking away. “So I guess that’s a no, then?”

“It’s absolutely terrifying!” Max giggled, then coughed, taking a moment to breathe. “I love it. Please never wear anything else.”

Honestly, he wasn’t expecting him to take him seriously, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. Besides, now Sam didn’t have to nag him about stretching out his sleeves anymore.

* * *

The pair stood proudly in the middle of their brand new (at least to them) office/apartment, amongst a mountain of boxes and furniture. “Well, little buddy, we’ve finally made it! We’re now in charge of the safety of the entire Tri-State Area and possibly beyond, against the very explicit wishes of the NYPD to never allow us anywhere near a crime scene or perpetrator!”

“God bless the Commissioner!” Max cheered, pumping a fist in the air. “It’s a good thing he has as tarnished a moral compass as we do, huh Sam?”

“As tarnished as mine, anyway. I’m pretty sure yours is completely broken beyond repair.”

“Oh, Sam, you know me so well,” the lagomorph replied, faking a swoon. “It’s a wonder I’ve kept my hands off of you!”

“Knock it off, bonehead,” Sam snorted, ruffling the fur between Max’s ears. His tie was in yanking distance, and Max felt his paw twitch, but he quickly shook off the urge, ducking out from the touch. The dog thought nothing of it, shoving his paws deep into his pockets.

The two stood like that for a small while, with the shorter becoming a little antsier. In the crappy rom-coms he watched with his sisters sometimes, this was usually the moment the couple would kiss to celebrate the milestone. And Sam was _right there_ , all he had to do was stand on a box, or grab his tie to pull him down, or something.

Rather than doing any of those, he hopped up to the desk, sighing dramatically as he draped himself across it. “I’m bored.”

“Well, we did just get this job. The Commissioner probably doesn’t have any cases for us to take on yet.” Just as he finished talking, the phone started ringing from inside one of the boxes, and immediately their gazes met, a slow grin creeping on both of their faces.

**_“I GOT IT!”_ **

* * *

It was a slow day for them, which was never a good thing when you were a pining hyperkinetic rabbity-thing in the same room as the object of said pining like Max was. He was idly scratching another picture into his desk, while Sam sat back in his chair, plucking at his banjo without pattern or rhythm. On a whim, Max decided to fill the awkward silence. “Hey, Sam?”

The plucking stopped, and Sam set the banjo aside, propping it against the wall. “Hey, what?”

“In a purely hypothetical situation, what would you do if you wanted to…oh, I don’t know. Confess to someone, let’s say.”

Sam raised a brow, looking to Max who was absolutely refusing to look up from his carving. “First off, depends who that someone is.”

Max thought a moment, pausing as he did. “Someone you’ve known for a while. Practically attached at the hip.”

“Well, there’s not really anyone I’ve known that long, ‘cept for you, little buddy.”

“This is hypothetical, Sam,” Max replied, a little too defensively.

“Well, I guess I’d want to tell ‘em. There’s the chance of it ruining the friendship though, so I probably wouldn’t anyway. Why?”

Max frowned at the dropping feeling in his stomach. “No reason.”

“You sure? If you wanna talk, I’m here.”

“Talking is boring.” Max forced a grin, tossing aside the Xacto knife. “Let’s just go to Stinky’s and take a drive. I’m itchin’ for some highway surfing again!”

* * *

Max sat on Sam’s desk, swinging his feet as he toyed with the phone cord, waiting for the dial tone to stop. It took three rings before an answer came, the bustling background on the other end filling his ear with static. “Which idiot am I talkin’ to?”

“How’d you know it was the office phone?”

Maximus snorted. “See, we have a little thing called caller I.D.. You old guys wouldn’t have anything like that.”

“You’re a year younger,” Max huffed, scowling at nothing.

“So? Why’d you call, Mil?”

Max chose to ignore the first question. “I have a favor to ask. On Friday Sam and I are going out to the shooting range and-“

“Out? As in, just out, or a date?” The lagomorph felt himself redden, and he mumbled out an answer, curling in on himself and burying his face in his knees. “Sorry Millian, don’t think I caught that.”

“It…may or may not be a date. Either way, we need you to come over and watch the Geek for us, make sure she eats ‘n stuff.” He cringed at the prolonged silence on the other end, waiting for the worst.

He definitely wasn’t expecting Maximus to start laughing. “Oh my fuck, I knew it. I fucking called it!”

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to write the confession I swear, but I didn't know which way it should go. I guess it's up to interpretation to you guys until I get ideas :')


End file.
